


Children of a Lesser God

by Modlisznik



Category: The Technomancer (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, I'm going to give myself everything I want, M/M, Mentor/Protégé, Mother Abundance loves her children, Sexual Tension, War, Zach is a full-time Rogue, headcanons galore, military setting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-10-05 00:22:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17314571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Modlisznik/pseuds/Modlisznik
Summary: Trying to disappear, Zachariah Rogue finds himself in the Army, heading to the front. It's a strange place, and his new commander is even stranger.





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

> Early this morning  
>  when you knocked upon my door  
>  Early this morning  
>  when you knocked upon my door  
>  And I said, "Hello, Satan,"  
>  I believe it's time to go."
> 
> Robert Johnson, **Me and the Devil Blues**

   

Enlisting to the Army was a mistake.

They took away his clothes (this was acceptable) and his weapons (this was not). They cut off his hair; the trimer they used shouldn't, technically, cut the skin as well, but they managed to do it anyway. It was weird to feel the cold air on his scalp. In return, they gave him standard uniform (thin and brown) and standard rifle (clearly used). And a rank.

Private Zachariah Rogue. He decided that he doesn't like it at all.

And then there was that famous discipline: do as you're told, when and for how long you're told, eat, sleep and piss on command.  Zach was familiar with obedience, but not this kind - blind, mechanical one, encompassing his every waking moment. Nothing like in the Vory, where each of Anton's "regional managers" had a fair degree of freedom in running their business, as long as the boss was pleased with results.    

Now, cramped among rows and rows of young people with the identical buzz cut, identical, ugly uniforms and identical, blank expression, Zach was feeling strangely out of place. Strangely, because blending in was the reason he found himself in here in the first place.

Yet now he was feeling exposed. It was irrational, he knew it; the creature inside was restless today. Zach lulled it back to sleep.

He'll make it work, somehow. He'll adapt. That's what Rogues do.

(Like cockroaches, Rogues were hard to kill, and like them, Rogues were living in the darkness, in the cracks between the worlds, making their living off the things others didn't want to speak about; like roaches, they were treated with disgust if they stepped into the light. But the tale was, the cockroach was the only living thing that came to Mars uninvited and didn't mutate after the Turmoil, as it was already prepared for everything, and Zach took small comfort in that. That, and in the fact that at the point when a man realizes how many roaches had nested in his house, it's too late already.)

There were not many places where a Rogue could disappear in, should they decide to escape from the city, and even less if they hoped on returning to the city one day. But in the Army everyone was welcomed; even Rogues. Welcomed to die, of course, because let's not get ahead of ourselves, but welcomed nonetheless. At least the Army provided them with food, water and shelter, and even some spirit of camaraderie and purpose, for the weeks it will take to get all of them killed.

\- I need a scout - came the voice from behind one of the tents surrounding the square where the young recruits were gathered.

They weren't on the front, not yet (but they could hear it sometimes, the distant roar of artillery, fiery serpents climbing the night sky); this outpost was merely a transit station, and they all were waiting to be processed. In the meantime, Captain Eliza (short, scary) tried her damndest to mould them into proper soldiers. Except for a few very self-important Wards, most of the new recruits were, until recently, miners, factory workers, farmers - even shopkeepers. She wasn't pleased.

And judging by her voice, coming from the same place soon after,  the state of her unit wasn't the only cause of her annoyance today.

\- You can't just come here and take what you want.

\- I can, and I will.

They finally showed up, a tall man in grey and the Captain. The man had long legs and he walked fast, so she had trouble to keep up, which was presumably one of the reasons for her annoyance. The document the man passed on to her was, undoubtedly, the other.

\- Attention!!! - shouted the drill sergeant (old, mean).

Sixty pairs of heels clicked. Hidden safely in the fourth row, Zach nonetheless tried to stand straighter than the usual. (Apparently, the attentive soldier should look like they swallowed a whole flagpole.) He started to get a grip on this.

\- If the high command says so… - Captain Eliza's expression left no doubt as for her opinion about other officers stealing her soldiers. She gave the document back. - Be my guest! Here they are, Ophir's best and brightest.

They should be very attentive right now, no? So Zach was. Oh, the man has his whole attention right now.

(These cheekbones could cut glass.)

Damn, he was _fine_. Not only his face, or the sound of his voice - there was something in the way he carried himself, his whole presence solid and focused, bright and sharp like a knife. It was…

The creature inside purred longingly.

The man looked right at Zach.

\- I want this one.

Captain Eliza raised a brow.

\- You sure? He's a Rogue.

\- I've decided.    

"Holy shit", Zach thought eloquently.

\- Very well. - She sighed. - Sergeant, make it happen.

\- Yes, ma'am!

Zach followed the officers with his eyes as they were leaving, wondering what all this fuss means for him. Was something like this happening often? Is he going to die even sooner than the norm? And why him, exactly? Not because of his stunning looks, for sure (not with this haircut, or the scars). So why?

\- You, Private, will come with me. - The Sarge pointed at Zach. - The rest is dismissed!

Feeling the curious looks of the other soldiers, the creature inside shifted anxiously, stretched its tendrils, making Zach's hands itch. Zach grinned nervously. The Sergeant eyed him and scowled.

\- Follow me, lad - he grumbled. - Gotta have your papers ready.

They went to one of the larger, metal-reinforced tents, making the outpost's administrative centre. There the old man assembled an armful of folders and, still grumbling, sat behind a large desk. Zach was waiting patiently. In his short experience, being a soldier composed in equal part of being shipped in a train and waiting for some documents to be processed. Oh, and also doing the drills. Not very exciting, all things considered, but it looks like something was finally happening.

\- So, you're leaving us already, lad? - The old man glanced at him. - Maybe that's for the better. I remember your Anton, standing where you stand.

\- "My Anton"? Not all Rogues are in the Vory, you know?

\- Who you're tryin' to fool, lad? - The Sarge pointed his crooked finger at Zach's chest. - I know your folk, yes I do.

\- Shouldn't you be retired already? - Zach ignored the finger and looked him right in the eyes. - You must be ancient if you remember Anton being my age.

\- Ha! I could still snap ya like a twig, lad - he snorted and smiled; the scars on his face moved, making a way for the wrinkles.

\- Anyway… - Zach leaned over the desk, trying to read upside-down the documents the old soldiers was shuffling. - ...what's the word on my new commander, huh? He looks hot.

The Sergeant snorted again.

\- That's brought you up here? You lookin' for a sponsor?

\- Ye, not really. Just having, you know, a pair of eyes. Perhaps you're too old to appreciate the view.

\- Forget it, lad, I mean it. He's a bloody mancer.

\- _Z łóżka bym go nie wygonił._

The Sarge send him a glare of heavily condensed disapproval, but it was hard to tell, whether it was because he didn't understand, or because he did. Zach flashed his teeth in a smile. The man returned to his files.

\- You asked, so I say: he's a mancer, and he's weird.

\- They're all weird, no?

\- Even for their standards. Spends too much time with these lunatics from Aurora, that's my opinion. Started to have ideas. - He stabbed a document with his pen as if the writing was holding some revolting intentions.

Oh? That's going to be interesting.

\- Like what, exactly?

\- Just better watch out, lad. - The old man gathered the files, pressed a big, red stamp on the first one and gave them to Zach. - Your documents, Private. Don't lose them, and good luck. For the Motherland!

\- For the…

\- Dismissed!!!

Half-assing a salute, Zach left. There was no one waiting for him outside, which was good. Pretending, that he's heading somewhere (the Army was highly suspicious of anyone just standing and minding their business), he sneaked a peek into his documents. Perhaps he could find anything about this new assignment of his… Just anything, to not go in completely blind… Yes! There it was: "Sixth Separate Anti-Tech Company, Cpt. Sean Mancer."

\- Are you done?

Zach stopped. Slowly, he looked up.

His new commander was looking right at him. The creature inside lunged forward like an agitated hound, sank its teeth in Zach's skin (it hurt). Startled, he took a step back.

\- Uhm, yes, sir - he said, getting himself together. - I was looking for you, sir, and...

\- And you found me. Get in the car.

 

 

 ****  
  



	2. Chapter 2

 

 

 

 

> for why is all around us here
> 
> As if some lesser god had made the world?
> 
>  
> 
> Alfred Tennyson, _**Idylls of the King** _

 

 

The car was smaller than rovers (Zach watched them from afar, coming and going to their garage in the Slums, bulky and shiny like beetles), but newer, too, with four pairs of thick-tired wheels and solar panels on the roof. Its back was opened, revealing a ramp leading inside. The Mancer invited Zach with a gesture, then followed.

It was surprisingly spacious, with enough room for a dozen people, maybe more, if they'd squeeze really good. There were rows of seats at the opposite sides, now all folded, except for two. Zach took one, his new captain - the other.

Only after the car moved, Zach began to wonder how he'll survive this trip, with this face right in front of him.

This skin and hair white as a bone. In the shape of his brows, his nose, there was something regal (Strange, that this word came to him now; there was no kings nor queens on Mars, they all belonged to Earth and to the tales about the heroes of old. Yet looking at this man, he felt like not all of that was lost.). His eyes were grey and bright and motionless like two silver coins. And there was more silver - an implant of a sort, shiny and smooth, sinking its tendrils into his skin on the forehead and the temples and disappearing under his hair. It seemed… violative, somehow, and Zach wondered if it hurts. He wanted to touch it.

His gaze slid down, past his lips to a strange, metal collar, to a grey uniform made off layers of hardened leather with a darker fabric visible underneath, to long legs hidden in smooth pants, to knee-high boots. He probably shouldn't stare, but then the man stretched his neck slowly, thoroughly, and Zach understood that he was used to being looked at. Maybe even liked it.

(No wonder, with that face.)

Then he spoke.

\- Can you shoot?

\- Uhm… - Zach blinked. What kind of question that was? - Yes, sir. I can.

\- Can you climb?

\- Quite well, sir.

\- Can you move silently?

\- I'm a Rogue, sir. I can. - He smiled. - Shouldn't you ask about all this before you decided that you want me, sir?

The Mancer tilted his head.

\- I want you regardless. Now I'm deciding what to do with you. Can you cook?

\- I can make things edible… most of the time. - Zach shifted in his seat. A field kitchen wasn't a place he'd want to end in. - You said, sir, that you need a scout, no? I can do it. I work well on my own and have good eyes. I'm damn good with a sniper rifle, too.

\- Is that so?

\- Yes, sir. Been training since I was ten.

(Since it became clear that Rogue was all he'll ever be.)

\- Sometimes there's a need for a pair of eyes watching from above, ideally through a scope of a rifle. - The Mancer leaned closer, thoughtful. - You will show me your skills.

Zach grinned. This was perfect, this was his jam. He had served Anton for three years before, hidden high above the streets of Ophir, keeping an eye on everything every time the boss decided to leave the security of his office. And he never overlooked a threat. And he never mistook something for one. (The creature inside knew the pulse of the city and was watching with him, ever vigilant.)

\- Gladly, sir. I had my own rifle, custom made, really sweet… but they took it away in the recruitment office, said I'll get it back when I return. So my guess is, I'll never see it again. - Zach chuckled. - And it's us they're calling "robbers".

\- Yes, it does sound like our military: throwing away a perfectly functional thing in the name of doing everything the way it has always been done. - Captain nodded. - Morons. You'll get a new one.

Outspoken, aren't we?

\- Then I'm your man.

The Mancer smiled slightly and blinked. Only now Zach noticed that he wasn't doing it very often.

They were riding fast, with the car jumping on an uneven road. Lamps on the walls were flickering, blinking eyes of a sleepy beast.

\- So what brings you here, my man?

The creature inside shifted, and Zach with it.

\- The usual, I think. - He shrugged. - Adventure. Payment.

The Mancer was near him instantly, quick like a sand viper. He grabbed Zach's chin, pulled him forward.

\- Don't lie to me. Keep your secrets if you want, but don't you dare to lie. I don't have time for this.

Zach looked him in the eyes, but he might as well try to stare down the reflectors of an oncoming train - it would be equally effective and probably equally safe. He looked aside. The Mancer released him and leaned back in his seat.

Fuck, this man was intense.

But at the same time, Zach wanted to kick himself in the head; it was stupid, lazy lie and he should know that it wouldn't do. Guess he just got distracted.

\- Then I'd rather not tell, sir - Zach murmured, abashed.

\- Very well.

There was something more - the Captain's touch hurt as if there was a sting hidden in his fingers, the pain sharp and bright. Zach was familiar with it, though until now, the pain was always coming from the inside, the creature biting everything that came near.

"Is this how my touch feels like?"

And then another thought.

"If everything played out differently… could I be a student of someone like him? Maybe even him?"

(Wonder if he'd get such nice shoes, instead of the cheap ones he was wearing all his life.)

\- You know, sir, I was almost accepted to that school of yours, long ago - he said to break the silence. - It fizzled out tho.

\- What do you mean?

\- They said, I have some talent, but it's not enough. Mister Scott was mad as hell; it was a shitstorm, even some assholes from the Assembly got involved. But it's okay; never believed I will make it anyway. The other kid passed tho, and good for him. Andrew. He was funny.

\- Andrew was my student - the Mancer spoke. There were emotions in his eyes Zach couldn't name.

\- He made it? Just think 'bout it: the kid from the Slums, a Mancer. - Zach grinned. - Awesome. Where's he now?

\- They took him away from me. - The more Zach looked at his face, the more he understood. Grief. Rage. - They wanted you to die, do you realize?

\- What? - He frowned. - No!

\- This talent of ours, if not properly trained, may turn against you. It may kill you. It's still a risk to me, after decades of practice; to even _think_ …

\- But I'm fine after all, no? - Zach chuckled nervously. - Like a cockroach. Hard to kill.

He didn't want to believe it (not that the government might want him dead, that he believed in no problem, though it may be an overstatement, the government didn't want him to exist in the first place); the creature inside wasn't a threat to him. It wouldn't betray him. There were times, true, when its presence was difficult to bear, with it tugging him in all directions at once, snapping at people (or that one fistfight when it lashed out through his hand, through brass knuckles, and threw the other guy at the wall three meters away), breaking things (electronic things, precious things)... when it trashed, excited, until he couldn't breathe, and left his limbs cold and numb. True. But nothing more, right?

The creature wouldn't hurt him. It was his friend (the only one he had).

Zach felt its tingling in the tips of his fingers.

The Mancer sighed; his face softened.

\- You've been denied guidance you ought to have because our Corporation wouldn't confront the idea that a Rogue could be a Mancer. Such is a world we live in. I'm sorry.

Zach shrugged with a smile.

\- No, I mean, it's fine. Thank you, sir, but… It was all long ago. I moved forward. I mean, not every talent have to be pursued, no? You have to decide what you want to be.

\- I guess you can phrase it that way… - The Mancer nodded. - But we're talking for so long, young Rogue… may I have your name?

Right, the Captain probably had no time to look into his files.

\- Zachariah, sir. But everyone's calling me Zach. Guess it's a mouthful for a Rogue.

\- Zachariah. - On his tongue, the name sounded different, vibrant and rich. How was he doing it with his voice? Zach wouldn't mind hearing it again. (And again, perhaps, and not only that.) - It's beautiful, thank you. I will take care of it.

Brought back to reality, Zach blinked.

\- What?

\- Your name. You gave it to me. - The Mancer smiled. - So it is mine now.

\- What? No! I didn't mean it!

\- I wanted to have your name, and you gave it to me. - He tilted his head again, his gaze piercing, bright. - I told you to not lie. Are you a liar, Rogue?

Rogue gnashed his teeth.

\- Then I want it back.

\- No.

Then the lights flickered and died; the lack of the engine vibration informed him that the car stopped. They reached their destination. The machine huffed like an animal tired after a long run; the back door opened, the ramp unveiling like a tongue.

The Mancer stood up from his seat.

\- Follow.

What else could he do?

Nameless, he stepped into the shadow outside.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The image of Zach with a sniper rifle I owe Salmaka and her beautiful story [From the rooftops](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16539644/chapters/38746826)... it stuck with me :*


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

 

 

 

> Keep your halos tight
> 
> I'm your god or your guardian
> 
> Keep your halo tight
> 
> One hand on the trigger, the other hand in mine
> 
>  
> 
> Marilyn Manson, **Cupid Carries a Gun**

 

 

 

\- Here they are, The Sixth… - The Mancer laced his fingers together, stretched his arms with an audible crack. - Best of the best and the worst of the worst.

\- That's a strange way to introduce one's unit, sir.

\- That's a strange unit.

The camp was placed near the mouth of the canyon, shaded from the Sun. A glance at the sky revealed that it was close to the evening already; stone walls and the tents at their bottom had colder, blue hue. He didn't notice that the ride was so long.

Someone was coming to greet them.

\- Yao is my right hand - the Captain remarked. - If you'll ever need anything, they can make it happen.

He watched the short, sturdy figure, approaching them at a considerable speed.

\- You're back early! - Yao had a wide, joyful smile and a dimple on right cheek; a mess of short, brown hair. -  And kidnapped someone again. What's the name?

\- I don't know yet - the Mancer replied, handing them the documents. - Sort them out, will you?

\- Oh, I see. - They glanced at the files, then tossed them back into the car. - Any personal equipment?

\- Nothing worth taking.

Something caught his attention - an uneven sound of their steps. He looked down to see that at the base of their right leg there was no foot, but a metal contraption of a sort, three forked, segmented toes like those of an ostrich. Yao followed his gaze and laughed, patted their pants.

\- I'm experimenting, you see? But also have some more standard feet, for different occasions. We'll see which one works best.

\- Cool. Can you run on these claws?

\- Just try to talk shit, and you'll see how fast I can run - they laughed again. - But no, I don't fight, unless he really needs me to. Yao, the Beastmaster. Nice to meet you.

The creature inside reached out, curious, but he (why did he start to think about himself as a "he", he didn't know - if it was the Mancer's compelling voice, or the fact that he was new here and it was obviously some trial, or his own morbid curiosity that wanted to know where all of this is going, because it was _weird_ ; perhaps all at once) pulled it back. He shook Yao's hand.

\- I…

\- Don't fret about it, we'll figure it out, in time. - Still shaking his hand, they patted his shoulder. - Come, I'll introduce you to my beasties.

\- You've promised me a demonstration - the Mancer reminded, crossing his arms.

\- Ah, I'm not gonna step in between you and your promises, Sean. He's all yours.

\- That he is; but we're also going to need the rifle, which is yours, as I recall. Would you kindly?

\- A sniper, huh? - They eyed him up and down, excitement written all over their face. - Right away!

They disappeared behind the car, the uneven clacking of their steps soon accompanied with various rustles and clangs. He tried to focus on it, cut himself off the presence of the man standing right behind him; he couldn't. He knew he's being watched, he felt that gaze on the back of his neck (why was he feeling so exposed with his hair shaved, so naked). The creature was pulling him backwards, playful, purring.

He didn't realize he was holding his breath until Yao returned, carrying a bag of a very familiar shape.

\- Here it is!

Oh, it was nice; he took the rifle, feeling the familiar weight setting in his arms. Long barrel, stock wrapped in red-brown cloth, with a foldable bipod at one end and a leather cheek-piece at the other. Fancy, high scope. He reloaded it, click - clack - clack - click; the bolt movement was so damn smooth.

\- Sweet.

\- Isn't it? - Yao beamed. - Here, the magazine for ya.

\- What's it packing? 7.62R?

Yao grinned from ear to ear and he couldn't help but grin too.

\- Rimmed Russian!*

They fist-bumped because some jokes will never get old.

\- Now, since you two are done bonding over crude humour and phallic imagery... - The Mancer rolled his eyes theatrically. - ...can we go, while we still have some light?

\- Rrrright. We should go. - Yao coughed, still grinning, then looked around. - That rock shelf over there? Should be a good view on the plains. I'll grab binoculars.

He followed their gaze. I'll be a bit of a trip, but a welcomed one, after sitting in the car and standing during the muster (a lifetime ago, it'd seem). He slung the rifle over his shoulder.

\- I'm ready.

They caught a few curious looks, as they were walking through the camp, but no one addressed them; soldiers in strange, red and brown uniforms seemed occupied with their own things - managing the equipment, fixing, training… They just nodded at the Captain as he passed them, to which he was responding in kind. No jumping to one's feet, no swallowing a whole flagpole; no saluting even.

After two weeks in the transitory outpost, after constant shouting and being shouted at, calm atmosphere of this camp seemed… strange. What kind of place it was?

He tried to find any distinctions on Yao's uniform (long-sleeved, a lot of pockets), with no luck.

\- Are you simply "Yao", no rank? Just was getting used to everyone having one.

\- Nah, ain't nobody got time for that. Unless some bigwig from the high command will come here with an inspection, in which case, I'm a humble private, just like you.

\- Thought, the right hand of the captain will be something more than a common soldier.

\- And maybe even will get their own squad one day, huh? - Yao shrugged. - They may tolerate us, and profit from our work, but to recognize that we're doing a damn good job? Ain't happening.

\- Yeah, wasn't really counting on it anyway. Folks like me don't get promotions. - He grinned. - You know, I'm thousands of kilometres from home, and it's still the same shit everywhere. Comforting, no?

\- Wait, you are one of them, right? - Yao snapped their fingers, looking for a word. - Rogues?

\- Yup.

\- I'll never understand this. It literally means "a scoundrel", right? So they name people like this and what are they expecting?

\- Honestly, Yao? No idea.

The view was getting better and better the higher they were. He still wasn't used to this - this vastness, the smells carried by air. It was hard to believe there were so many shades of red in the world (and if for nothing else, he was thankful for that he could see them before he'll die).

\- You don't have Rogues where you come from?

\- They are there alright, just not the designated ones - Yao laughed. - I'm from Alliance, you see. A kind of… inventor. There, you can see my beasties!

With the camp visible below, only now he noticed, that some of the things he took for tents weren't, in fact, tents - they were machines, vehicles similar to the one he and the Mancer got here in. On both sides they had foldable solar panels, now spread like wings, with curtains of fabric blocking sun rays. It was difficult to assess from the distance the living space available under each of these "wings", yet, judging by the size of the car he saw up close...

\- That's impressive as fuck, Yao. - He whistled. - You made them?

\- I helped. I can make things out of other things; not like him, of course. - They nodded at the Mancer. - He's a magician.

\- I can hear you, Yao.

They snickered.

\- You know I mean nothing by it.

\- I know.

Finally, they reached the edge of the shelf. The Sun was painting the sky blue; basked in his gleam, now calmer, cold after the fury of the day, the plains seemed almost black; eerie. He shivered.

\- What do you want me to shot, sir?

\- I'll leave the choice to you. - The Captain took the binoculars from Yao. - Just tell me what should I look at.

\- Sure thing, sir.

Setting up the rifle, he wasn't anxious, even if it was - obviously - a test, even if he was still feeling the Mancer's presence in the back of his mind. But with the weapon in his hand, he was precise and steady. It was his speciality, his domain. He had nothing to fear.

Quickly, he examined the parts once more, the barrel, the chamber, the trigger; he unfolded the bipod, and laid down flat on his stomach, placing the rifle on the edge of the rock. Now, the scope.

The scope was always fun.

Will a hit from 1000 meters be good enough for the Mancer? (Standard testing distance for military sharpshooters was 800 m, they didn't allow him to take a shot, he was only a Rogue.) Should he show off a little? Fuck yeah he should.

\- There. A flock of ostriches.

He put the magazine in and loaded, then watched the animals for a while, allowing the Captain to find the target. They were grazing on the lichens, watchful and twitchy as always... but had no chance to know about his presence. Hell, from that distance they won't even know they were shot at. One female just separated from the group...

He adjusted the scope, running calculations in his head (focus, elevation, windage). Shot in the head was too risky; the trunk was a much better target, not that unpredictable, but the shell - the shell of an ostrich was thicker than most human armours, it could deflect a bullet, especially at this range (1035 meters, he touched the scope again, just a bit), or reduce its impact so it would just wound, not kill. He didn't want that. Just wait, until the female will turn her front…

She spotted something interesting on the ground, lowered her head, sniffing. Walked a few steps to the right. He followed.

Finally, she turned towards him, a perfect target.

He watched, as -

(You can't be sure. You don't know this rifle. The scope can be fudged, the barrel can be uneven, the bipod - unreliable. Too many unknown variables. Too many for a living target. It deserves a clean shot, not shock and pain and slow, ugly death.)

(Not like that one time.)

\- as she caught some smell in the wind and ran back to her flock. He took a breath and moved the crosshair away.

\- Change of plans, sir.

There was something on top of the hill, a cairn of rough stones, just a bit further away (75 meters); on its crown - a horned skull and bits of fabric, probably colourful, now nearly black in the evening light. Was something (someone) buried there, or was it just mean to mark the pass? Both? He didn't care. He adjusted the scope again, exhaled, and took a shot.

The riffle kicked his shoulder. It felt good.

Click - clack - clack - click.

He remained silent, waiting for confirmation; from that distance, it'll take almost a second for the bullet to reach the target. He could look through his scope if the horned skull was gone, but where's fun in that?

\- Great shot. - The Captain put binoculars away. - Impressive.

\- It's a good rifle.

\- Then it's yours.

Proud, he turned the safety switch on and stood up, dusted his uniform off. Yao was by him in a second.

\- Take care of it, will you? The sand, especially. And if you'll need to adjust anything...

\- Why not the ostrich? - The Mancer asked, tilted his head. The trial wasn't over yet.

\- Didn't know the weapon, sir - he replied, and it was true. - If it has its whims or something. And I've been taught to not waste anything; a second shot means I'd had to use two bullets. - He shrugged. - That's a waste.

\- He's thrifty! - Yao beamed. - I like him.

\- And if you had to make a second shot at the skull?

\- It wouldn't matter to the skull.

For the first time, Sean truly smiled - not only with his lips but with his eyes adorned with delicate lines of wrinkles.

\- Good - he nodded, deep satisfaction in his voice. -  It's easy to look at the world through the crosshair of a gun, and think that its power gives you authority. But the final authority is death and it must be respected.

\- Yes. - He replied with a smile of his own. - Yes, it must.

Excited about the clean hit and the captain's praise, the creature rolled, rushed, but he held it back. It wasn't a good time for this.

The Mancer passed the binoculars back to Yao.

\- It's getting dark - he said. - Let's go back, little Rogue.

\- I'm not little, sir.

\- Well, you are shorter than me.

(As if there was a need to point it out. He had to tilt his head upwards to look at him.)

\- I was skipping my breakfasts - he muttered.

\- And, dare I say, younger. As for any possible metaphorical meanings, we are yet to see, still, it seems a pretty accurate description.

\- Only in relation to you, sir.

\- A fair point, my little Rogue.

He huffed but didn't say a word. The creature inside swirled, nibbled on his mouth.

They walked down quietly for a while, with Yao leading the way, their metal claw scrapping the rock.

\- As I've said: if you'd want to make some adjustments to the rifle, I'm happy to help - they said at last, breaking the silence. - I have some ideas...

\- We'll see, first I'll need some practice. Mainly, getting used to the wind. - He chuckled. - We didn't have it in Ophir.

\- Malevolence will help you - the Mancer replied.

\- A who now? - What kind of name it was?  - Auroran?

\- Mutant. She used to work on the construction of Shadow paths; she knows the plains well.

\- You have mutants here?

(He remembered mutants from Ophir, wretched, tormented creatures with names like "Filth" or "Crud". He never paid them attention; the Vory didn't deal in mutants.)

\- We have everyone no one else wants.

\- It's the end of the road! - Yao laughed. - For all poor, unfortunate souls of our glorious corporation. I say "ours", 'cause I'm officially a soldier of Abundance and all that, but he dragged me out of the prison cell. They thought I was a spy. Me! - They threw their hands in the air. - Totally unnoticeable. I'm the master of blending in. Fuckers. I just wanted to study.

\- Yao was a part of the caravan that ventured too close to the front - the Captain explained. - I liked the work they had done on the sandsails. But our fellow compatriots would rather let the person responsible die than see the possibility. - Bitter tones appeared in his voice. - Just like they took a person capable of shooting a stag's head from over a thousand meters, and shipped him to the front lines, to die in the first battle. As you said: wasteful. Ignorant. Foolish.

He thought about the Source, in all its vastness, grandiose and uselessness, surrounded by the Slums from all sides. (When all of this misery contained inside will finally burst and flood through the walls, the Rogues will be ready). But he didn't expect thoughts such as these to be stated by a technomancer. Strange he was, indeed.

\- Yes, sounds like 'Bundance at her finest.

Their mood somewhat lifted as they returned to the camp, and Yao finally had the opportunity to show him all of their "besties" up close. They certainly were something to be proud of.

Two eight-wheeled transporters (Victor and Hugo; it was the latter that brought them here); one even larger, with the V-shaped plough at the front (Musashi), and one smaller, towing a water cistern (Taiko). There were also small, two-wheeled vehicles to which Yao referred as sand hoppers, but too many of them to name all now.

\- The whole camp - Yao explained - is fully mobile; we can pack our shit and be ready to move in less than fifteen minutes.

\- Wow. - He took a look around; his head was spinning (the creature excited, restless). - What happened to "sit on your ass in the trench"?

\- It's blooming - the Captain replied nonchalantly - somewhere else. But I grow tired of watching my people die, so we're trying something new here.

\- We hunt. - Yao nodded. - Technomancers, sometimes officers. And we're good at this. - They smirked, the dimple to appeared again on their right cheek. - With a scouting party ready, we have a full team now, right?

\- We still have no cook. - The Mancer sighed.

\- Benevolence does what she can...

\- Well, she can't do much.

\- Wait - he interrupted. - You have mutants here namer Malevolence and Benevolence?

\- Yes. - The Captain glanced at him, curious. - Something's wrong?

Out of the blue - fury.

(The creature roared.)

\- They have… Mutants, even cars here can have their names, and I can't?!

\- Mutants earned their names. - The Mancer quirked his brow in a perfectly infuriating way and he felt that he's boiling. - What did you do to deserve yours?

\- I survived! - He was shaking. - Twenty years in the Slums! I want my name back, asshole! I didn't give it to you, you tricked me and you know it. _You_ didn't earn it. - He pointed finger at him, shaking like in fever, the creature clawing at the inside of his hand, digging its way out. It hurt like hell. He didn't care. - Give it back.

He expected laughter, a dismissive gesture. Or silence, haughty and cold.

He didn't expect to see delight in his eyes.

\- Thin and sharp like a needle. And you are right: there's a line between the things we're giving freely and the ones we're allowing to be taken from us, and the two should never be mistaken for the other. You are right, Zachariah Rogue. You're right, my Needle - your name was never mine to take.

\- Yes. It's mine - Zach hissed; it was difficult to breathe. He curled his hand in a fist, nails digging into skin. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt…

The Mancer came closer.

\- You are in pain. - His voice was gentle. - Let me…

He took Zach's hands in his own.

Zach gasped.

The creature… for the split second he thought it was gone, and it was terrifying - but then he felt it again, but differently; where were claws and fangs and tangled thorns, now was… a thread, silver, silky and smooth, flowing through him, through both of them, through their entwined fingers.

It was...

He almost cried when Sean took his hands away.

\- Don't hurt yourself because of me - he whispered.

\- How did you do that?

\- It's something I've learned, to not let people like us die when they try to escape from me… I'm glad it could be used to help, too. But it was an eventful day - he said, louder now, the Captain again, not only a mancer - and I am tired. Yao, help him settle in, will you?

Watching him leave was… painful, he realized. He was cold. After that moment, that shared touch, the sensation he's never felt before… he couldn't find words. It left him lacking. Longing.

(Is this how they all feel? This connection? Is this what they had denied me?)

\- So what is my name now? - he shouted - Zachariah or Needle?

\- Why not both? - Sean glanced over his shoulder. - You can be more than one thing, little Rogue.

He disappeared inside the tent, leaving the rest of Zach's question for some other time. (There'll be other time, he's not going anywhere.)

Something else caught Zach's attention - something he previously took for a wind turbine. It was not. It was not at all.

On a long pole, there was a head of a hound; its bloody red shell sharply contrasting with the white bone below and black transistors protruding from eye sockets. Under it, a sheet of metal spotted with rust, blue symbols and letters. The letters composed words, and these words were familiar, yet together made no sense, as if someone would use the same terms, but a different language altogether.

 

public class Anathema {

    public static void main(String[] args) {

         System.out.println("Anathema to thee");

    }

}

 

Or maybe it was just gibberish. The whole construction was entwined in the copper wire; little bells here and there jingled lightly, catching the wind.

\- Anathema, huh? - Yao touched his shoulder. - Sean likes it. You like it?

\- It's creepy as fuck.

\- Aurorans, am I right? - They laughed. - It's a gift from them. Well, not exactly a gift, as it means to curse him, but…

\- To do what? - Zach turned towards them (even if it was hard to take his eyes away from the thing, it was _watching_ ), frowning.

\- He's accursed. Shunned. Herem, if you will.

\- For what?

\- Killing too many of them? Challenging them in their domain? Your guess is as good as mine. - They patted him on the back. - Or maybe they were feeling fancy that day, who knows. Don't fret about this. Come, let's find a place for you to sleep.

Walking away, he felt the gaze of the dead hound on his back.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * It _really_ is a colloquial name of a certain type of ammo, "rimmed" referring to the rim at the base of the bullet, and "Russian" to the country of origin. Either someone didn't know what they're doing, or they knew exactly ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> Thanks for stopping by! ;* ;* ;*


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

 

> Holy water cannot help you now
> 
> See, I've come to burn your kingdom down
> 
> And no rivers and no lakes can put the fire out
> 
> I'm going to raise the stakes
> 
> I'm going to smoke you out
> 
>  
> 
> Florence + The Machine, **Seven Devils**

 

 

If not for the burned farms, Zach could think it was all an adventure.

He learned a lot during these days.

He got a new, fancy uniform made out of a manta skin, reddish brown like Mars itself; they were almost invisible, Malevolence and he, as they wandered deep into the hills. (He was surprised how well mutants blend in into surrounding even without the camo, their skin brown and scaled like that of a desert lizard. _They_ were better prepared to live here, he realized.) She was teaching him about the wind, the way the sand moves, the way in which the desert could distort the view. He listened.

He even got a grasp of how to ride a sand hopper - this boisterous, prancing machine, that required to sit astraddle it and ride head-first at the speed he's never experienced before. He soon became fond of it; it was slightly scary, but exciting. Still, too early to give him his own machine; for now, he was riding as a passenger on Malevolence's hopper, and it was good. The vehicle obeyed her, and he had more time to watch.

\- Hold on, we're going down!

\- I'm holding!

Zach glued himself to her back, her thin frame the only support in the flurry of sand and wind. The machine reared and slid down the dune.

\- Yeehaw!!!

He felt her laughter on his chest.

Malevolence (never "Mal"; she earned this name and wouldn't let anyone treat it lightly) always knew her way through the plains. She could tell whether the ground is stable enough to ride through, even for the ten-wheeled Musashi, or if it's better to go around. Although she struggled with words sometimes, she was a good teacher, and she could make numbers dance.

(Born in a pen, she hasn't been taught a lot more than "do it", "don't do it" and "obey", but her old owner was an engineer, and the numbers spoke to her.)

It would be easy to believe that they're on an adventure - if not for the burned farms.

It was a shame, Zach thought, that the first farm he's ever seen was just a pile of charred rubble and shattered glass, broken fans of wind turbines laying on the ground. The second one and third were the same.

Aurora was retreating, leaving nothing behind.

The Captain has sent them as a reconnaissance, as he, in turn, has been sent by his own commander to secure the route for the main army, ready to advance in the next day or two. According to the maps, the only important point there was an outpost called New Oasis, build around an old well; they could expect some resistance there. Beside of that - only farms. Rather - what's left of them.

Still, they had to check each one. You'll never know with Aurorans.

\- This should be the last one - Malevolence said, killing the engine.

In silence, they made their way to the top of the dune, Zach with his rifle, Malevolence with binoculars.

\- And what do I spy with my little eye… - Zach whistled.

This farm looked intact - not only the central house (blue paint on the door, wind chimes on the porch) but the greenhouses as well, long, tent-like construction of metal and glass. Three wind turbines seemed fully operational; hell, there was even a ball made of colourful rags, laying on the yard as if waiting for the child who dropped it a minute ago.

But no child was to be seen.

\- You think somebody's home? - Zach tried to see anything through the walls of the greenhouse. - Maybe they heard us coming and are hiding?

\- Look at the dust on the porch. Nobody entered or left through there for at least three days.

\- Right. - He knew better than to doubt in her expertise about the Martian dust. Malevolence knew her shit. - And what's with the noise?

The wind was carrying to them a sound - a low, vibrating wail, irregular enough to not be made by a machine.

Malevolence lent an ear, thoughtful.

\- A cattle, I say. Goats? Must be thirsty.

\- They just left them here? - He frowned. - To die?

She huffed.

\- Pisses me off as much as you.

It made no sense. This farm was the closest one to the Oasis; its inhabitants had the most time to escape and couldn't take one of their most important possessions? Better just leave them here, slowly dehydrating to death, and to risk that their cries will lure some riders, so they can ransack the farm? He looked at the greenhouse again; there could be so much food in there! Not like they couldn't use some of that themselves…

Oh.

He wouldn't make it to his adulthood in the Slums if he didn't know what bait looks like.

\- It's a trap, no?

\- Landmines, I say - she nodded slowly - or something just as ugly. I've seen this shit before. Pity; if not for this, we could just shot the animals down so they won't die that way. But they are locked in their shed, and I won't risk coming closer.

\- Speak for yourself, I'd rob the shit out of that farm - he said, more to make her laugh than anything else because she really seemed angry. He succeeded, earning her chuckle and elbow in the side (more than he bargained for, but it's fine). - But also sorry, goats. Your people are shit.

\- Yeah. Sorry, goats.

And even that ball on the ground… It was weird, to imagine all this blowing up the second someone put a foot in the front yard. Disturbing. Somehow, it was even worse than the burned farms.

He tried to imagine Anton's reaction to all this bullshit.

\- This isn't a self-sustaining business model…

\- A what?

\- Like, with my former boss… you can't sell a drug that will kill the client instantly, no? They won't come back to buy more. You have to leave something for the future you to make money on.

\- Seems fair.

\- Like, my boss was probably one of the worst people on Mars… but to burn down a city block to the ground just so nobody else could get any money from it? That's.... - he shook his head, trying to find an adequate word, but no luck (is this how Malevolence feels like all the time?). - What kind of people turns their houses into bombs?

\- They're turning humans into bombs, Needle - she scowled. - Let's keep moving, we have report to do.

 

***

 

\- ...so, whatever forces Aurora left there, they're hiding in the town. No sign of life around. - Malevolence tapped her finger on the map. - The only way further leads through the town, so…

\- So they're just blocking the path. - Yao nodded. - What about the town?

\- Oh, it's charming - Zach grinned. - Saw at least one kid inside, and it was still alive. But also the walls are little more than a corrugated sheet; a few decent spots for the marksmen, if they have any, but that's all. I guess it'd be enough to stop a pack of riders, but that's about it. Don't know if we're into sieges tho; seems like not our thing. And with that well, they can hold for some time.

\- Stalling us is what they are after, that's why they are trying to hide behind the civilians. - The Mancer crossed his arms on his chest, a deep frown on his face. - And I will have none of this. Abundance wants this town, so this town she will have, and when our artillery will arrive, it will be too late for them to surrender.

\- There's mancer with them - Malevolence reminded. - There won't be any negotiations.

(That was a thing everyone knew, even back in Ophir: technomancers of Aurora never surrender. People were saying, it's because what's waiting for them in the afterlife is so good that they're preferring it to the captivity. Zach had his doubts - he knew people who believed that there's nothing left for them in this world, and they had no fight left in them in the first place.)

\- We don't have time for their delusions of martyrdom. - Sean seemed mildly annoyed but determined. - They will face me; we'll settle this between the two of us.

\- Like… in a fight? A duel? - Zach raised his brow. Was this sort of shit happening here often? - I've heard that they kind of… want to have nothing to do with you, sir?

There was never a good moment to ask about that before; too many people for Zach to meet and things to learn, too many to have time to ask about the skull of a hound which their commander was carrying with him as a trophy. (He was a mancer and he was weird, the Sergeant had this absolutely right.) But now, it was relevant, no?

(It's not like Zach could just ask him in person, wasn't he ashamed of his little outbreak. It's not like he wanted to spend some time with him. Not like he was unsure why and what could happen then. Not like…)

(He was overthinking again.)

Now, the Mancer looked right at him and smiled, just a bit, but enough for his eyes to shine.

\- It's true, they don't. But they will, when 'll ask the right way. Yao, what day we have?

\- It's… Friday. - They blinked, confused by the change of topic.

\- For your people, Yao.

\- Oh, right! - They reached to one of the pockets, took out a small notebook, thumbed through some pages. - It's the first day of March 2207.

\- A what now? - Zach frowned. The year was 130, how did they…

\- Alliance, babe! We have computers counting years as the first settlers did.

\- Holy shit…

\- Oh, but this is a very fortunate date indeed. - The Mancer nodded, still smiling. - This will do.

\- Don't tell me we're going to check now if the stars are properly aligned before we do something? - Yao rolled their eyes theatrically, a grimace they undoubtedly learned from him. - You're really spending too much time with them, Sean.

\- I'll stop doing it the second it stops working on them.

Zach felt… a sting. It was stupid, he was aware; these two had known each other for a long time and apparently were comfortable enough with one another to just speak their mind, without "sirs" and other bullshit; he was aware, that there's no reason to be…

Jealous?

He wanted that connection too.

The Mancer waved his hand. (He had to practice that gesture, it was too perfect.)

\- Now, I need to get properly dressed, so get out, if you will. Or don't, I don't really care. Just a moment, please.

Zach looked him right in the eyes and smirked.

\- I think I'll stay, then.

Sean tilted his head and blinked slowly, but Zach held his gaze, somehow. He felt that he's blushing.

\- Aaaaand we should go. - Yao glanced at one man, then the other, grabbed Malevolence's arm and hurried outside.

Ok, so now he really had him all for himself. Now what?

\- Now, how about you'll make something useful, little Needle? - The Mancer pointed at one of the chests in the corner of the tent. - Fetch my clothes, will you?

\- Uhm, sure, sir.

"What the hell  I'm even doing", Zach thought, heading in the indicated direction. He kneeled down, opened the chest. It was full of stuff.

\- Which one do you want, sir?

\- The black one. Shirt, vest and coat.

(Of course it'll be black.) He dived deeper in the chest, hearing a rustle, then a loud thump, that could only be a sound of a leather armour failing on the ground. "Holy shit, he's really undressing."

\- Uhm… what's wrong with your current uniform, sir? - he asked, just to focus on something.

\- It was made to let me blend in, and that's the opposite of what I'm after right now, Zachariah. - The rustles continued. - If you expect to be taken seriously, you have to look the part. And I didn't spend twenty years learning how to be a technomancer to be humble about it.

Zach finally found it - the softness of the fabric on his fingers was telling enough; he pulled it out and saw that it was black. He sighed.

It was a ceremonial attire, that was certain; similar to that grey uniform, and at the same time not similar at all. Where layers of leather were meant to make his wearer's frame larger, and the visible wiring served as a reminder of his technomancy, this garment's purpose was to draw attention with that silky, outrageously deep black that was attainable only for those who never walked under the Sun. The collar was the same, with the white spot at the front, but made of fabric, not steel; four rows of buttons, the same, but ornate, not just functional. Elegant. It was… in some strange, indescribable way rich.

\- You know, Zachariah, that's one of the things I envy my Auroran cousins: the drama - Sean continued. - Ceremonies, rites, splendour; an illusion of being a part of something greater than yourself. It gives life all its flavour, don't you think?

\- Not sure 'bout it, sir, you seem pretty dramatic to me already.

There were wires in this shirt too, Zach noticed, but subtle, arranged in geometrical ornaments on the chest and sleeves. He touched the rim of the collar; the creature inside released its tendrils, curious, and flew along the wires, easy like the bullet in the barrel.

"So this is how it feels like."

The Mancer chuckled.

\- You haven't seen anything yet.

\- Yeah, possibly. - Zach folded the shirt, took the rest of the clothes, then closed the chest. - So, here you are…

Sean was naked.

Zach froze.

(Only half-naked, strictly speaking, there were…)

...there was a scar on his chest, dark and big as a palm of his hand. There were other, too: on his collarbone, on his neck, on his ribs… but they didn't matter. Not nearly as interesting as the curve of his shoulders, or the way his chest was moving in the rhythm of his breath... or the trail of fair hair leading down from his navel and disappearing under his trousers.

_Oh._

Zach's breath shortened.

Merciless, Sean tilted his head again.

\- What's the matter? - he said slowly. - Did you bite more than you can swallow?

His imagination showed him an image. Then another.

_Oh no._

\- Please, sir, don't talk about swallowing right now.

Sean's low, amused chuckle was ringing in his ears, as he tossed the clothes on the table and nearly ran outside. The cool air was good, the air… he needed to cool down.

Malevolence and Yao were still waiting outside.

\- Not a word - he grunted before any of them had a chance to speak. Yao opened their mouth, but then closed it, trying to not smile. He took a deep breath and added - I'm a fool.

Nobody protested.

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

 

 

 

 

 

> And it's my whole heart
> 
> Weighed and measured inside
> 
> And it's an old scar
> 
> Trying to bleach it out
> 
> And it's my whole heart
> 
> Deemed and delivered a crime
> 
> I'm on trial, waiting 'til the beat comes out
> 
>  
> 
> Who's a heretic now?
> 
>  
> 
> Florence + The Machine, **Which Witch**

 

 

 

The Shadow walks with Auroran technomancers. Wherever they go, people follow.

And they don't fight, not if there's any other way. They are priests, scholars, leaders. People are always ready to fight for them.

This duel was a trap.

Yao explained this to Zach, as they waited for the plan to spread through the company. It wasn't the first time for them; they knew the drill. Dealing with mancers was a delicate business.

\- You can just assassinate them, but that's a sloppy work - Yao clarified, tapping their metal foot (pretty normal this time) on the ground. - Folk will just get angry at you, want revenge. We don't want this. We want them to lose the will to fight.

\- So, seeing their mancer being beaten up in front of them…

\- ...tends to fuck up their morale, yeah.

\- Nasty. - Zach nodded. - I like it. But what if someone would try to interfere? Help them?

\- Won't happen. They treat this shit seriously. The trickiest part is to make them accept the challenge.

\- What if our mancer will lose?

It was a huge responsibility placed on the shoulders of just one man… He didn't like the idea - not only of watching him lose (he wouldn't want to see that) but also of not being able to do anything about. It wasn't right. It's not what Zach has been taught. He should be there, above, watching, keeping guard.

Yao had to see his frown because they grinned from ear to ear.

\- Never happened before. - They patted Zach on the shoulder, shook their hand as the creature bit it, then patted him again. - Be still your heart, Zach. Worst case scenario, we'll need someone to tend his wounds, and I think I know of someone who's dying to…

\- Oh fuck right off, Yao. - He pushed them away, laughing. They pushed him back.

\- Fair warning tho, he's a terrible patient.

\- You want to watch? - Malevolence gestured towards the town. - I want to watch, it's always a show.

\- Hell yes I do.

They climbed the stone walls with ease, even with the additional weight of their equipment. It wasn't difficult to find a shelf broad enough for two rather slim people to lay down on. Red uniforms blended in perfectly with Martian rocks.

(Oh it was exciting.)

New Oasis was just around the corner of the canyon, shaded in part by rocks, in part by a roof made of metal and pieces of fabric; in the front of the town's gates, there was an empty space, probably for cars and stalls of travelling merchants. It was empty now; it was not the time for trading.

It was quiet; the whole town watching with bated breath, tense like a cornered animal.

When the Mancer walked onto the trading ground, a dark frame in the shadow, no one came to greet him; through his scope, Zach saw faces on the walls and in the loopholes, pale mouths, eyes fixed and huge. The town was afraid.

With an elegant, fluid motion Sean unfolded his staff.

If it was for his voice, authoritative and strong, or for the shape of walls that took his words and carried them further, Zach didn't know; but he knew that when the Mancer spoke, every living thing in the canyon was listening.

\- There are thirty people with me - he said - and however many found refuge in your town. None of them has to die today, kinsman. Come and face me.

There was silence, for a while. Then, from the speakers on the walls came the answer.

\- There's great pride in dying for the right cause. - The voice was melodic and clear, the accent unfamiliar to Zach. - But the likes of you will never understand. I'll make no truce with a dog.

(The head of the hound, the symbols below. He's accursed, shunned.)

\- I am Sean Mancer, the Dog of Ophir. - The Mancer opened his arms. - If I'll win, I will give you quick death; I ask for nothing in return if I'll lose. Come and face me, whoever you are!

\- You have been cursed! - it came in reply, quick and venomous. - Your soul is forfeited, for the Sun walks with you. Go back to your masters, Dog.

\- Do you like to hide in the Shadow, mancer with no name? - Sean struck the ground with his staff. - There is no shadow so deep to hide you from the eyes of Mars, for we are in his domain, and today, in the unbroken count from before the Turmoil, is the first day of his month. The day of Mars! - He struck the staff again, his voice loud and clear like thunder. - Whom our ancestors worshipped on the seven hills of Rome. In the name of Mars, who led the legions to war, I ask you - how dare you to hide among people needing your protection? In the name of Mars, who protected the fields so that people won't starve, I ask you - how dare you to abandon the farms? Come and face me!

With the third strike of his staff, the silence fell.

Zach felt the shivers on his spine. It was… (For the brief moment, the kings and queens of Earth, the heroes long gone - they were all here, with them.) He took a deep breath.

\- Now we wait - Malevolence muttered.

\- You think they'll come?

\- For sure. To be called out like this, in front of everyone? Not something you can… - she clicked her tongue, made a sweeping gesture on her shoulder.

\- Brush off?

\- Yes, that. The Shadow walks with them, right? So people follow. But if it'll turn out that the Shadow left you, there's nowhere to run; only Sun around - she huffed. - You're screwed.

\- Huh. - So this fight will be the only chance for the Auroran to keep their status? Still, it was a risk. He didn't like that. - What if I'd just shoot them?

\- Koschei will kill you. Look... - She furrowed her brow (she didn't have brows, or any hair at all, but it only strengthened the effect). -  I'm not trying to say that I understand everything he's doing, but it works. And because it works, the higher-ups are… not looking very closely at all that. - She pointed in the direction of their camp. - Yao's machines, mutants in uniforms, all the weird shit, they're… leaving us be, because what he does, works. So don't ruin it, maybe.

\- Koschei? - The word was familiar, but he couldn't pin it down

\- Don't call him that unless he let you. But yeah, that's his name. One of them. Greedy, I say, right? - She chuckled. - You know, they say he can't be killed.

\- Now you're just messing with me. - He kicked her in the ankle, to which she responded in kind, but her expression didn't change. - Why?

\- Times and times they tried to kill him, him alone, and he still walks. There's a scar on his chest big as my hand, and not much smaller one on his back. - She raised her hand in a demonstration. - Yet he lives.

\- Yeah, uhm, I kinda saw it. It was… a nice scar. The rest was also pretty nice.

He didn't even have to look to know that she's smiling.

\- Oh, you poor boy. - She shook her head, her brows raised high. - He's playing with you.

\- Yep, I noticed. - He shifted. It was exciting, their little game… though he shouldn't think about it right now, get distracted. He looked through the scope, to see how fine the black coat rests on Sean's shoulders, and sighed. (He was standing right there, unmoving, like a statue of black volcanic glass, sleek and sharp.) The man was so damn easy to admire from the distance, but every time they met, Zach was making a fool of himself. He was doing something wrong. - You really believe it? That he can't die?

\- It's just something soldiers say. - There was a hint of sadness in her smile. - All living things must die. But it's a good story. - Malevolence poked him in the side; Zach winced, as the creature bit her finger. - Ask him yourself, maybe? He likes you, you're both spiky.

\- What now?

\- Spiky - she giggled, then poked him again. - Like these thorny plants in the desert. It's funny.

\- At your service, ma'am, feel free to poke me anytime. Seriously tho, stop it, it's annoying.

\- I wish I was spiky. Nobody would touch me then.

\- Nobody will touch you anymore. - He smiled reassuringly. (She rarely talked about the times before, and he never pried.) - Unless you'd want to, in which case turns out that being spiky only makes things more complicated.

\- Right, I've never thought… - She leaned back a bit, narrowed her eyes. - How do you even…?

\- Being drunk helps.

\- You mean, you or the other guy…?

\- Shush, something's happening.

The town's gate opened with the squeaking of hinges. Only one person came forward.

The Auroran was… not who Zach expected.

They weren't scary.

(Oh, Zach was aware that they weren't really the boogeymen he's heard about as a kid, the phantoms speaking through wires, snatching children who dared to hoard electronic parts instead of giving them to their elders. He knew that they are humans - he saw their silhouettes painted on the walls of the Source, black and looming and threatening, gnashing their teeth at the girl in white and the soldiers in red. He was watching through the scope of his rifle, hidden high above, and he was grateful that he's not a technomancer after all.

He was nothing like them.)

Like on the murals, they were wearing a leather helmet of a sort, covering not only their head but eyes as well; like on the murals, there was a triangular ornament on the forehead; but beneath it, there was no naked bone, no snaggled teeth.

The technomancer had lovely, full lips.

And they weren't wearing black. (Sean was.) Their attire was blue, darker on the long coat, brighter on the vest underneath; on their chest and shoulders and high, fancy collar there were plates of deep, rich copper, polished, catching the sun rays. ("Aurora" means "sunrise".)

They were a sight to behold, both of them, standing across the trading ground in identical, rigid postures, long staffs in right hands. Pity, they've come there to kill each other.

Squeaking, the gates closed. There was no turning back.

The Auroran said something, Zach saw the movement of their lips, but the words didn't reach him; they were meant for Sean alone. They exchanged bows, long, elaborate and graceful.

Sean struck first.

Zach has never seen anything like this before.

He saw fights in the Slums, but it was nothing like this - just blades in the darkness, merciless and effective, three thrusts of thirty, no matter; just clubs and chains in narrow alleys, brutal and plain, sending a message. Nothing like this.

He saw fights in the Arena, but it was nothing like this - lights and roaring of the crowds, blunt weapons and broad movements, all flair and no bite. Fear and frenzy of animals. Nothing like this.

He couldn't find words, but he could feel… he could almost feel…

(It should be him. All this time, it should be him.)

(They took it away from him.)

With how effortless it was seeming, with how easily they both were making their bodies do things no flesh should be able to do, it took Zach a moment to realize how vastly, hopelessly overpowered the Auroran was. They were fighting bravely, and a few of their attacks met the mark, but it was a matter of time. And it didn't take long.

With their head in the headlock, Sean turned the Auroran towards the town, forced them down on their knees. He leaned forward, and for a blink of an eye Zach could swear that he kissed the other mancer's helmet.

Then, in one swift move, he broke their neck. The mancer went limp in his arms.

(They say, technomancers die in the blast of light, as their body can no longer contain the brightness of their souls, but this one died like a candle snuffed out.)

The silence fell, as he carefully laid the body down on the ground. Then the gates opened again.

The battle was won.

 

***

 

The town was theirs now; they met no resistance as they rounded up and disarmed the remains of the auroran garrison. The civilians were watching through the curtains in their windows, their doors and faces shut close.

Zach didn't care.

The Mancer was nowhere to be seen; he was the first to enter New Oasis, and as Malevolence and Zach were making their way down from their spot, they lost him. He was aware that as the Captain, he probably had a lot of matters to attend right now, but for that, he didn't care either. He couldn't wait. He wasted long enough.

Finally, he traced him to a house by the temple (openwork construction of bent steel and blue banners, the fabric moving gently, glimpses of the deity inside). There were blue doors and a lantern hanging above, a lone candle inside, dark and dead. Zach didn't care.

But perhaps he should, he realized as he entered. There was a small altar just across the room, in the corner; a figurine adorned in blue, prayer beads, symbols on the walls (the words familiar, but the language - not). Clothes and books in disarray, unfinished meal on the table. A half-empty cup of tea.

The house belonged to the dead technomancer.

Sean was sitting on the bed, curled up, his knees pulled close to his chest, legs crossed in ankles. (Zach winced, seeing boots on the sheets.) There was a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He saw Zach and blinked, acknowledging his presence.

\- I'm cold - he explained.

(Maybe it wasn't the best time for this after all.)

\- I've heard that technomancers are winning battles - Zach said, coming closer - but didn't know that they can do it without firing a single bullet. Impressive as fuck. Should I congratulate you, sir?

\- I don't know; should you? - Sean frowned, as if it was really something worth pondering, then his face relaxed again. - If I seem a little lost, I'm just tired, so please, forgive me. I've just killed one of my own.

\- You saved many.

\- Yes, and it was a fair bargain; one life lost instead of many. Worth it, don't you think? A simple calculation.

Zach didn't really know what to say, so he said nothing.

There was a red smudge on Sean's temple, blood sharply contrasting with the paleness of his skin. For how effortless the fight seemed, he looked tired.

\- I'm tempted to burn this thing down - he scowled, pointing at the temple visible through the window, his nose wrinkled in contempt. - Nothing sacred in it, just signs and prophecies and rules upon rules, the whole religion shaped only to control. It's insulting.

\- Aren't the mancers the ones who control it? I've heard so.

\- Obedience didn't choose to live in this town, just as I didn't choose to come here.  - (So the Auroran had a name after all.) - But they are dead now, and you are here, alive and wanting something. What do you want?

His gaze was focused again, intense.

\- They called you a dog…

\- But I am a dog, Zachariah - he declared, every word precise and clearly pronounced, an echo of countless discussions he had with himself in the past.- I protect the herd, I kill and I fetch, and even if the leash I'm being held on is longer than the most, it's still a leash, and one day it will be yanked back. - There was something chilling in his voice. - But you didn't come here to listen about dogs. What do you come here for?

\- It doesn't matter, sir - Zach replied, coming closer and squatted near the bed, to not look down on him. - Dogs or not, we all do what we have to, no? And I can't speak as nicely as you, sir, but well... when you're a just a cockroach, it's good to have a dog on your side.

It worked; Sean puffed, a hint of a smile on his lips.

\- You can speak nicely enough.

\- Yeah, but I didn't like the way they talked to you.

\- I've earned my kinsmen hate a long time ago, when I was young… oh, I was vicious. - He winced as if he tasted the word and found it sour. - It was a different war, and as I returned to Ophir, I swore I won't do it anymore. But their will moves more than my regret. - He blinked slowly. - So here I am again, hunting down my own people.

Something clicked in Zach's mind, and he smiled to his own thoughts.

\- So… you are like a rogue mancer, no?

\- When you put it that way… I think I am. - The idea seemed to please him. - At least every mancer I'll kill won't be a threat to my Andrew anymore.

\- He's out there too?

\- Somewhere.

(Kid from the Slums. A technomancer.)

\- So let's protect him. Andrew, Yao, Malevolence; everyone. And all Aurorans can die mad about it.

\- Let's. - Sean nodded, and it was like a promise. He had a nice smile. - And thank you... for enduring my moment of self-loathing.

\- Nah, no problem, sir. - He waved his hand dismissively, standing back on his feet. - Yao kinda asked me to take care of you; you have a nasty bruise on… There should be some medkit in there.

It was good to feel helpful.

\- So you've come here to check on me? - The Mancer stretched and finally put his feet on the floor. - I'm moved.

\- Honestly, sir, I was thinking… - Good thing there was so many drawers to rummage through, Zach didn't have to look at him. - _I want you to teach me technomancy_. - The words escaped his lips all at once, so as he wondered if they were even understandable, the other followed. - I wasted so much time, _they_ wasted so much of my time, and I want… I know there's no time to teach me everything, but just…

\- Zachariah.

He shut his eyes close, waiting for the sentence. (He didn't know he cared so much.)

\- Sir?

\- I thought you'd never ask.

He exhaled loudly, a gasp turning into laughter.

\- That obvious, hmm? - He finally found a box, red with a white cross. - I have nothing to pay you with, sir, but just thought… maybe we could skip the payment? You know, between us rogues?

\- A mancer who is also a rogue, and a rogue who should be a mancer. - Sean chuckled; it was a low, pleasant sound, and it filled Zach with warmth. - Perfect.

Zach found a clean piece of cloth, poured a sanitizer over it, then returned to bed. Sean tilted his head, allowing him to assess the wound; it wasn't deep, just a broken skin. The implant looked intact.

\- It'll sting a bit.

The Mancer patiently endured the treatment. His breath was calm, eyes closed.

This time around, his presence wasn't overwhelming, imposing, challenging. Not a statue to look at, not a weapon to fear - a human, tired, wounded, beautiful. His skin was soft.

When it was finished, Sean cupped his hand over Zach's.

\- Stay.

Spiky, Zach thought. Can't be touched unless they want to.

Sean's skin was so, so warm.

\- As long as you want me.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

 

> For you were meant to be with me
> 
> Here
> 
> For we are built, trained, conditioned to disappear
> 
> We shall stay in the shadows
> 
> In the meadows afire
> 
> As thieves for hire
> 
> And we shall remain invisible, for we travel light
> 
> For we do not rush toward the light
> 
> And we dance if we can
> 
> With our eyes closed
> 
> All along the borders
> 
> All along the road
> 
>  
> 
> ROME, _The Accidents Of Gesture_

 

 

 

 

\- I'm calling it "my creature". - (They didn't burn the temple down. They already killed the cleric; it wouldn't be fair to take even more from the people without giving anything in return, and they weren't there to stay. The next day, the more troops came, and the company could move again.) - "The creature inside".

\- Like something possessing you?

\- More like… a pet? - Spoken out loud, it sounded stupid. Zach scowled. - It's not a creature, no?

But Sean didn't laugh. (Bless him and his expressionless face.)

\- I've never thought about it that way… but why not? Would more people perceive it as a pet, perhaps they wouldn't be so eager to exploit it. But then, perhaps not.

\- But what is it? - Zach leaned closer, tense.

Not like someone could eavesdrop on them here; they were high in the mountains, with the lights of the camp still visible below, but for now - alone. Zach didn't know, whether the teachings itself required secrecy, or his teacher guessed that Zach would appreciate the lack of company and things in danger of being broken. He didn't ask.

Sean smiled, just a bit, and snapped his fingers, sparks danced on his glove.

\- It's magic - he whispered, the sparks gone from his hand, but still flickering in his eyes. - A gift, a curse, an aberration in our bodies, willpower manifested. - He shrugged. - Or a creature. There are many explanations, for many occasions and various kinds of people. Your words served you for years, I see no reason to change them.

\- Huh. - "Magic". It was only a joke, he was aware, but still, the thought was thrilling. Something special.

\- But it's important for you to know, that the creature is a part of you, not more separate from you than your hands or your voice.

\- ...If my voice could break things.

\- Yes. - The Mancer nodded. - And if we'd live in a world where your normal speaking tone would harm people, so instead of letting you live on your own, they'd force you to communicate only in perfectly calm whisper and freeze in terror at every sight of you displaying a human emotion, until you couldn't take it anymore and began to scream, only adding to their idea that you wanted to hurt them all along.

Zach blinked.

\- This metaphor just got a bit extreme, sir.

\- Alas, this is the reality we all face, and if you want to use technomancy, you need to acknowledge it. People won't bother asking why a particular Mancer destroyed something, just as they wouldn't ask why that one Rogue took something that wasn't theirs. In their eyes, you will always be all of our kind combined. And even though I will not expect you to be presentable, as it is expected of me, your actions can still affect all of us. It's a responsibility.

\- I get it. - He nodded. - I'll do my best to not fuck up anything, sir. I'm not even planning to come out as a mancer, I don't like to be in the spotlight anyway, but… - But what did he want? The Mancer was waiting patiently for him to speak his mind. - But I have this… creature anyway, and I should be able to use it, no? Weren't they all fuckin' assholes about it then. And for now, it's more a burden than a gift, really, I mean, I'll lose focus for one second and it's all over the place, making a mess.

\- It is very easy for us to damage electronic devices if they're not properly secured.

Secured? Like anyone expected a mancer in the Slums.

\- Yeah, and folks aren't very happy seeing their shit broken. - He winced. The memories weren't kind. - But I don't want to break things? It's just… happens? The creature is a little shit sometimes.

\- It's never a little shit without reason. - Sean smiled. - It wants to protect you, wants you to feel safe.

That was… touching, really, but also personal, in a strange, visceral way, and Zach felt a sting on panic.

\- But…

\- And you deserve to feel safe - Sean continued, and his words were unfamiliar and wanted and needed at once. - So let's make it happen, no?

\- "No" is getting contagious, I see - he snorted because this was infinitely easier to put into words than everything else he was feeling right now.

\- It's cute.

\- I… - The creature danced inside, swirling, singing. Zach took a deep breath, trying to get himself together. - It acts on its own, making even more mess. How do I make it stop?

\- As every difficult creature, it needs to be controlled. You have to take it on a leash.

Zach froze.

(He thought about the hound pits in the Slums, about magnificent beasts born and trained for a single purpose, to jump at each other throats, all teeth and claws on the bloodied sand of the pit. High above, the money will change hands; down below, only one hound will live to see another fight.)

(Dogs, always just dogs.)

(And he couldn't shake the image from his mind, like a pattern suddenly noticed in the chaos, he couldn't make himself unsee it. Perhaps that's how it was meant to work, that curse, Anathema - to call a name so fitting it can't be ignored or forgotten, a thorn under a fingernail, to shift the perspective, wrap everything around that one concept. And it worked.)

\- I'm not a big fan of this "control" thing… - he said slowly, carefully, not daring to look the man in the eyes. - I mean, has everything to be controlled? Can't some things just… be? - Was he even talking about the creature? Or himself? Or Sean? He didn't know.

And Sean was looking at him, his eyes narrowed and cold, and the silence between them lasted so long that Zach began to worry if he overstepped some boundaries. What he even knew about this man? Was it presumptuous of him to suggest that he doesn't want to do things the way the Mancer does? (Who was he to expect something better?) That things shouldn't be this way? Did he wound his pride?

But then Sean sighed deeply, and the lines on his face softened.

\- Forgive me, Zachariah - he said, his eyes closed. - Some things had been beaten into me, and they speak through me when I'm not careful. Not something I'm proud of. - He bowed slightly. - You are right, not everything needs to be leashed, and I won't use that word anymore.

\- I just… - Zach bit his lip. He wished he hadn't brought that up (it's just a word), and he was glad he did. His wish was respected. It was good (unfamiliar) to know.

\- I understand. Now, let us focus on more important matters, no? You said you want it to stop.

\- Stop acting on its own, yes.

\- It only does that because you don't let it act at all. Yes, I know - he added, anticipating Zach's explanation - you were afraid of destroying things, but it is not the way. Your creature is, in many ways, like your emotions: ignore them, bottle them up, and watch as one day they all break free in one gargantuan mess of blurry images and charges of homicide.

Zach snorted.

\- You're speaking from the experience or…?

Sean chuckled in reply, which almost convinced Zach that he's joking.

\- I've killed a lot of people, little Needle, and some of these deaths could be avoided. But my point is, keeping your creature confined and bored will make it restless and easily agitated. You need to let it out more.

\- Like, just zap people?

\- Not my people, certainly, they are my responsibility. But there are more things you can do with it than casting lightning bolts at passersby. But for now, we will start from the basics. Can you ask your creature to come to me?

Zach knew how to hold it back. To ask it forth? That was new.

The creature swirled inside, his lips and hands tingling. Of course, it didn't move. (If the creature had a tail, it'd pat the ground right now.)

"Please?", he tried, but the creature decided to be a little shit again.

\- I'm not even sure what I'm doing…

Sean was just looking at him, his smile equally amused and intrigued. Then he took off his gloves, passed them to Zach.

\- These could help.

He wasn't expecting them to be so heavy; but then, the metal reinforcements of fingers and palms surely added to the weight. "Clever thing", he thought, "can double as a knuckle-duster". (Even his gloves are like weapons.)

They were a bit too large for him, but warm inside. Nice.

And the creature slid into them, eager, just as easily as it ran down the wires of the Mancer's ceremonial clothes. Zach raised his hands, excited.

\- I think it's working!

\- Good. - Sean nodded. - Take my hands.

Zach looked at the hands reached out to him, palms up, pale lines of scars like serpents on his fingers. He looked at his own, dark, heavy, charged.

\- I don't want to hurt you.

\- I can handle it.

\- I don't want you to handle it.

Sean blinked slowly.

\- Thank you, Zachariah - he said, tilting his head - and I owe you an explanation. The amount of energy you'd need for anything but a little sting requires a skill you don't have yet… or a deep desire to hurt me. And I trust you, little Needle, that you don't want to hurt me; do you trust me?

He was surprised, how easy it was to answer.

\- I do.

\- Then don't be afraid. Touch my wrists, ends of my sleeves.

He did.

The creature jumped forth, eager and quick, and for a moment he felt… there was something, someone, energy bright and smooth; the second creature, alike his own and unlike at all, and for a moment he could see - feel - sense… For a single moment, they were as one.

It lasted no longer than a blink. Zach took a shaky breath, coming to his senses.

\- I felt you - his throat was clenched, voice hoarse.

\- And I felt you. - There was a fondness in Sean's eyes. - As our kind can. You did well. Now let's try from a distance.

But Zach disobeyed.

\- Not yet.

And he slid his fingers lower, to touch the naked skin, and looked up; in Sean's eyes there was… fascination? Apprehension?

(Sean's eyes were blue, he noticed, no longer cold like metal shards. It was only a trick of the light.)

He rub his thumbs over the exposed wrists; if not for the gloves, he could feel the pulse on the blue lines of veins. He wondered whether it would be quick.

Just as quick as his own.

\- I… - he started, then closed his mouth, then opened it again. He had this conversation in his mind, over and over again, but now all the words were gone. - You're beautiful. - Why did he say that? Sean knows that, everyone tells him that for sure. Zach looked aside, embarrassed. - I shouldn't stare, no?

\- I'm a vain creature, Zachariah, I like to be admired. - Sean's fingers slid under the sleeves of Zach's jacked, brushed his skin; his touch almost burned. - And it was the cutest game of chicken I've ever played. But should we go down this path, things shall get really complicated. You want me to be your teacher or your lover?

Feeling the blush crawling up his skin, Zach finally released the Mancer from his grip. The evening air felt cold.

\- Why not both? You can be more than one thing, sir.

Sean chuckled.

\- Aren't you a diligent student. But stop calling me "sir", please; it makes me feel old.

For a second Zach wanted to ask how old he really is, but it would probably be rude.

\- So then, with you being my captain, and my teacher, and a rogue for that matter, things are already pretty complicated. - He grinned. - I think I'll take my chances.

\- Very well, my little Needle. - Sean leaned in and cupped Zach's face, touched their foreheads together; the smell of warm leather. - Let's see where it will take us, no?

  


***

  


The time had no meaning anymore.

The unit was living in its own time, from resting to training, from tracking to the time of the hunt. The night wasn't frightening for them, and the day couldn't stop them. The winds were covering tracks of the wheels, as if they were never there, another ghosts among the sands.

It was a steady rhythm of duties that kept them grounded; cleaning and cooking (they were taking turns, those of them who could, and Benevolence was learning from every one of them), upgrading and repairing, learning and resting.

And there were stories, sometimes - as they were gathering around the heaters, with their bellies full of the last meal of the day. The Mancer among them, his face and hands open, his voice carrying stories his kindred had found under the domes; every word a relic in itself.

(Earth was so much more than half-broken technology and dreams about water.)

Sean's lips were brimming with stories, and they were eager to listen. About Mars himself he was telling them, about the love of Gilgamesh and Enkidu, and about Cú Chulainn, the Dog of Ulster; about Charlemagne and Tamerlan; about that one time when the Sun, offended by her brother, the Storm, hide in a cave and the darkness fall on the Earth, until a little goddess of dawn hopped on an overturned tub and danced a dance so lewd, that the noises lured the Sun back from her hideout. (That Sun was more fun than the Father Sun, it was decided.) About Valkyries, carrying the souls of the fallen warriors to the tables of Valhalla, where they can rest and drink their full, and train for their final battle when two wolves will swallow the Sun and the Moon.

\- All those who strive can earn their place in the Hall of the Slain, for it's the same to fight the enemy, the chains, or one's own mind and body; there's a bleak place awaiting for those simply laying down and waiting for death - the Mancer said, and it sounded right.

(There was a lengthy discussion about whether the Valkyries could find them on Mars (they could, obviously), and what should they ride (because frankly, the ostriches didn't have much space for a passenger). They all flocked around, the Mancer included, as Yao grabbed a stick and started to draw on the sand a prototypic saddle for a hound.)

The stories belonged to all of them, the Mancer said, and has been denied to them for too long. (The Mutant sisters were holding their hands as they listened, their eyes bright, lips tracing shapes of every new word.) They were forgotten children of the Earth, all of them.

And sometimes, in the middle of a story, Sean's and Zach's gaze locked over the crowd, and the Mancer was blinking slowly - "I can see you" - and Zach's heart was fluttering in his chest because that was only for him.

But sometimes the unit was called back to the high command - to hand over a prisoner, or receive new orders, or just for no apparent reason at all; the Army owned their commander and liked to remind that fact from time to time. It was unreal, to get back there to that world of red banners, ranks and salutes and dozens of weird ceremonies Zach already began to forget; to the rows of tents and people in identical, ugly uniforms. The soldiers were staring at them as they passed by, Yao's beasties like giant winged insects from another time, and Zach realized that it's them who were strange. Their Mancer made all of them weird (or perhaps they were weird from the beginning, that's how they found each other in the crowd).

And Zach was feeling jealous, because for the times, Abundance wanted Sean all to herself, and she had _no right_.

Waiting for the documents to be processed (there were always documents, and always time to be wasted on them), they were passing the stories forward. The soldiers were hungry for them; all gods were welcomed in the trenches.

They are strange, the soldiers were saying: they are walking beyond the shadow paths and wherever they go, Auroran mancers stay away. We don't know what you're doing, they were saying, but keep up the good work. And they painted the number 6 on their armours in bloody red paint. For luck, they were claiming.

They were protected.

 

***

 

\- Is the Sun a god?

Zach pretended to catch the Sun - now low above the horizon, cold and harmless - between his thumb and index finger; it was his left hand, the brass-clad one, more suitable for tasks like poking a god in his angry little eye. (A perfect suit for a blasphemy.)

Sean has given him his left glove; just one, because he still needed the right one, and Zach wouldn't dare to insist. In fact, he liked things as they were - he mostly used his left hand anyway, and it felt good to be gifted with one of Sean's personal possessions. Every time he saw him, one pale hand contrasting sharply with the dark tones of his uniform, he was reminded that Sean gave something to him. Useful, personal thing. A piece of who he was.

But maybe he was just overthinking things; it was difficult to avoid, with the Mancer having a habit of searching for meaning in things Zach wouldn't even stop to consider. And it was infectious.

He has never really considered gods before.

\- What do you think? - Sean tilted his head.

\- It's pretty. - He shrugged. - And I'm thinking… no matter who you are, some poor infantry fuck of the Dowser himself, the Sun is the force you have to reckon with… Kinda ultimate? I don't know.

\- There are forces here greater than the Sun.

\- You know more than I. But then, I'm not really sure about what they're saying at the ceremonies. That "angry father" thing. Seems just petty to me, and totally unfair to Mutants.

\- It's an old tale. - Sean rested his back against a rock. Divine or not, the Sun has warmed up the stones, and the man sighed softly, pleased. - Although its tone was different back on Earth. In its youngest, most popular version, it was the story of hope.

\- So, the father forgave them all?

\- Not only that. It was about humans making mistakes, not just once, at the beginning of time, but all the time, constantly, and still being forgiven; about failing, and getting up, and then failing again… and still getting up. It was said, that there's more joy in Heaven, as their afterlife was called, over one guilty who atoned, than over many who were blameless.

\- That sounds… kind.

\- Even our religion is Earth-made… the corporations can't create anything new, just take and twist and mould into something that brings them profit. And guilt is profitable, Zachariah, and it makes people easy to control. If you can convince them that just one blemish, the single wrong step is enough to make them worthless, when they'll fail, and fail they will, they will believe they deserve everything that you can do to them. After all, their god abandoned them, didn't he?

"And what you deserve", he thought, "for what you have done?"

Abundance will see him dead if she'll know - when she'll know. Hell, perhaps he really doesn't deserve any better. He fucked up.

\- That mancer… Obedience believed that too?

\- I can't be sure, still, it's what their Order believes in, and that's enough. For a disgraced Mancer, there's no home to return to. For their corporation, they must be blameless.

\- Aren't the Mancers did that to themselves?

\- What difference does it make?

Zach shrugged. Would they be less dead now if they were innocent victims? Was really any of them innocent? Fuck.

\- I think, captain Eliza is pretty pissed off right now - he chuckled. - She agreed to transfer me to an anti-tech unit, but this is obviously some philosophy class in disguise.

For a man so elegant in gestures, Sean's laugh was surprisingly loud. (Zach was delighted to know.)

\- I got carried away again. Please do tell me to shut up when you have enough.

\- No no, it's ok! I like to listen to you. - He sent the creature forth and smiled, as its tendrils reached the target, gently poking Sean's hand. The sensation was still strange, but pleasant. - Helps me focus.

\- You're getting better at this.

Zach beamed.

The stone must have cooled down already because Sean left his spot and sat down right beside his student. For a moment, they watched in silence the Sun setting over the plains, the view monumental, yet serene.

\- I wish we could just sit here and talk, and the world will forget about us… - Sean said quietly, wistfully. Then he turned at Zach, the sunset still in his eyes - And you? What you would like to do after all this?

\- After… - Zach blinked, trying to catch the train of Sean's thoughts. - You mean, after the training?

He was rewarded with a smile.

\- After the war, little Needle.

\- Haven't really thought… - He wasn't used to having his life planned; trying to make it through today was usually exhausting enough. After the war… it was hard to imagine. (Funny, as the war has stolen all his world; Ophir started to feel like a dream.)

\- It won't last forever.

What did Zach want?

"To be with him."

\- I want to see what's out there. - He pointed at the horizon. - And then even further. See all the places Yao talks about. See… there are so many things to see.

\- The first settlers' domes, buried in the sand… ghosts sleeping within the walls of Noctis Labyrinthus… the single red tree near the Tannhäuser Gate. I'll take you there, one day.

\- You will?

\- You doubt my words?

\- No time for lies, no? I remember.

The Mancer was still looking at him, his eyes smiling, so Zach found his hand with his own. Sean flinched at the contact, barely noticeable, but he didn't move away. Under his fingertips, Zach could feel the lines of scars.

\- You should get a full suit of your own. - Sean's hand was trembling, but his voice was not. - I'll ask Yao for help, they are dying to get their hands on my clothes anyway.

Zach chuckled to his thoughts.

\- It means you'll have to walk around naked for the time?

\- Would you want me to? - The arch of his brow, playful, challenging.

\- Only if you'd want too.

Slowly, Sean moved his hand over Zach's, red Marian dust on his skin; then higher, on Zach's arm, shoulder, neck.

\- I'm your commander… - For the first time, there was a hesitation in his voice.

But it was Zach's turn to be merciless.

\- Yeah - he purred. - You can command me whatever you want.

He closed his eyes, basking in the sensation, the tingling afterimage of Sean's touch, the warmth of fingertips sliding down his neck, thumb tracing the line of his jaw, brushing his lower lip. (He wanted…)

\- There are rules...

(no, they aren't, there are no rules)

\- Are you a rogue or not?

He parted his lips, and Sean closed it with a kiss.

  


 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Remember when I said, that I ship Sean/Zach, but rather in some AU scenario? Well, this is this scenario XD  
> ...welcome to the shitshow! \o/  
> Zach's characterisation here is closer to his "Ezrah" incarnation, as it suits better for this AU. 
> 
> Kisses and kudos for Discord folk, for reading and commenting and being inspirational af. You're the best :*

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [As The Old Gods Before Us](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17659277) by [WahlBuilder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WahlBuilder/pseuds/WahlBuilder)
  * [Lines in the sand](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17672810) by [WahlBuilder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WahlBuilder/pseuds/WahlBuilder)
  * [00000100](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17964050) by [WahlBuilder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WahlBuilder/pseuds/WahlBuilder)
  * [Rhythm](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18065402) by [WahlBuilder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WahlBuilder/pseuds/WahlBuilder)
  * [Ran](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18128471) by [WahlBuilder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WahlBuilder/pseuds/WahlBuilder)




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